


Didn't Mean to Turn You On

by TWSLAC



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2759282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWSLAC/pseuds/TWSLAC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of one-shots in which our unfortunate inquisitor accidentally discovers/does the secret turn-on of each member in his company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cullen

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of short one-shots that I will be doing, regarding all the characters of Dragon Age: Inquisition. The Inquisitor in this story is a male human. Yaoi dislikers don't be scared. There's no actual... YOUKNOWWHAT. Just awkward incidents in which The MALE Inquisitor accidentally turns on each member of his company/advisers. This is because, each of them (In my mind) has a strange turn on that whenever it happens, be it a male or female or whatever. And our poor inquisitor unfortunately stumbles upon each of these turn on's. At the end of each one-shot I will state what the turn-on is for the character, so try to guess.

A gentle knock at the door made the work-weary Inquisitor jump in his seat, head jerking around towards the door. Cullen stood with a sheepish look on his face, hands placating held out in front of him.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," he apologised with a wry grin gently easing his body through the doorway. The Inquisitor sighed softly, slumping boneless in his chair and rubbing a hand over his aching eyes.

"Don't worry about it. Just… tired. Apparently that makes me edgy." The Inquisitor responded, opening cerulean eyes as Cullen neared, turning back to his precariously balanced mounds of paperwork.

"And here I thought I got a lot of paperwork," Cullen marvelled, peering over The Inquisitor's shoulder.

"I came to check up on you," Cullen said, leaning back. "You missed dinner, so everyone was worried."

"Wait… What time is it?" The Inquisitor asked, eyes widening in shock as he spun around to face Cullen again. Cullen placed a hand on his shoulder, laughing.

"Don't worry about it, it's…" He trailed off, frowning at his hand. "Your shoulders as so tense. I have never even seen muscles this rigid before. Doesn't it hurt?" Cullen asked, unconsciously squeezing his fingers in a gentle massage. The Inquisitor shrugged, shoulders rotating under Cullen's hand.

"It's not so bad. It's more of a-" The Inquisitor was cut off as Cullen's hand tightened, massaging The Inquisitor's shoulder firmly. The Inquisitor groaned softly, head tilting forward involuntarily.

"What was that?" Cullen asked, straining to hear what The Inquisitor had said.

"I didn't say anythi-" The Inquisitor was cut off again as a far louder, deeper groan left his mouth. He felt Cullen's hand clench reflexively in a jerk, dragging yet another rough groan from his throat. Cullen's hand jerked away from his shoulder as the Commander stumbled back slightly. The Inquisitor slowly turned in his seat, eyes slightly hooded from (non-sexual) pleasure.

"Cullen…" He started. Cullen's face was flushed bright red and he refused to look The Inquisitor in the eye.

"I-I have to go…" Cullen stuttered stumbling down the stairs in his haste. The door slammed behind him. The Inquisitor stared at the closed door in confusion.

"Was it something I said?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer to Cullen's is...  
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> Sexual Noises :O


	2. Josephine

Josephine couldn't help but smirk, seating comfortably behind her desk, hands folded in front of her. As a diplomat she had gained many skills in the art of manipulation, and was feeling extremely proud of her latest work. The results had not yet shown themselves, however she was certain this plan would work. The Inquisitor was a well-respected man by all members of the Inquisition, Josephine included. However, he did not come without his own quirky faults. For example, whenever one of his advisors would summon him he would manage to postpone it for a long as physically possible by visiting the armoury, helping out members of the inside circle instead and even simply leaving the grounds altogether. Of course, as the Inquisitor he was rather… above questioning of such actions. After being ignored for a whole four days the last time she had requested his presence, Josephine had come up with a rather ingenious method of forcing him to arrive when she called for his attention. It did involve using his kind nature against him and she had some small guilty feelings about lying to him, especially regarding the attempts on her life, however all's fair in war as they say. And getting the Inquisitor where he needs to be on time may as well be a war.

She broke out of her musing when the door to her room from the Great Hall slammed open with a certainly unneeded force. The Inquisitor stood in the doorway, one hand pressed against the door and the other holding his dark blue shirt. Sweat dripped down his body as he panted for breath, leaning forward slightly.

"Josephine! I got your notice, is everything okay? Did the assassins attack again?" He babbled out, storming further into the room. Josephine stared at him, eyes comically wide as her mouth opened and closed noiselessly. The Inquisitor frowned at her, moving closer.

"Josephine? What's wrong?" He asked, hovering in the centre of her room unsure whether or not to approach. Her eyes fixated on his body, the rivulets of sweat running across his neck and torso. Her face lit up red and she stood violently, her chair falling over behind her with a resounding crash on the cobblestones. The Inquisitor stumbled back slightly in surprise as she stormed towards him, an envelope in her hand.

"Why are you-" She gestured frantically at his shirtless body, continuing towards the retreating Inquisitor. He stared at her in confusion.

"I was training with Blackwall when you called. What's wrong?" He asked again, picking up speed as her face grew stormier.

"Josephine?" the Inquisitor questioned cautiously as he continued progressing backwards as she moved further towards him, face red and stormily angry. The moment his body was outside of her office, once again standing in the great hall, she threw the envelope at his chest and slammed the door closed. The Inquisitor fumbled with the envelope, dropping his shirt in the process as he stared at the closed door.

"I… What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the answer for Josephine's turn-on is:
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> Sweat. I just though it suited her for some reason. Maybe because she's a noble who wouldn't have seen many shirtless, sweaty people. I dunno. Anyway, next is Blackwall


	3. Blackwall

Rain had been pouring for hours in the Hinterlands, and by some merciful grace the Inquisitor had finally granted his increasingly wet and frustrated company rest by stopping for the night. Tents were put up especially quick that night, and it did not take long for bunking arrangements to be organised. Two to each of the five tents. This night, Blackwall had been graced with the Inquisitor's presence, Dorian and Sera having started a surprisingly intense fight about sharing the Inquisitor's tent. Ultimately, the Inquisitor had grabbed Blackwall by the arm, dragging him into his tent. Blackwall was unfolding his bedroll when an uncharacteristically sheepish cough sounded from the man behind him. Blackwall glanced over his shoulder at the Inquisitor who was fidgeting uncomfortably; face slightly red in embarrassment and completely shirtless. Blackwall raised an eyebrow.

"How can I help you Inquisitor?" He asked politely, climbing to his feet. The Inquisitor sighed hopelessly.

"I may have… misplaced my nightshirt." The Inquisitor grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Blackwall frowned sightly.

"We all have several nightshirts." He pointed out slowly. The Inquisitor flushed slightly, clearing his throat.

"It had come to my attention that stealing my clothing has become the new favourite game of Sera and Dorian. As a result, no shirt." The Inquisitor explained, frowning. Blackwall made a noise of understanding.

"Why do you not simply retrieve it?" Blackwall asked, settling into a comfortable position leaning against the tent pole. The Inquisitor sighed again, leaning on the pole as well.

"Last time I entered a tent they both shared shirtless, some… inappropriate touching occurred. I would rather not have a repeat." The Inquisitor clarified. Blackwall turned around, staring at him.

"Really?" He asked, slightly dumbfounded. The Inquisitor frowned at him.

"Would I lie about something like this?" He asked, frustrated. Blackwall nodded slowly.

"I suppose then, you would like to borrow one of my shirts?" Blackwall asked, already moving to his backpack. The Inquisitor slumped in relief, grin slipping onto his face.

"Please," he asked politely, even as Blackwall threw the shirt at him. The Inquisitor wasted no time slipping the oversized shirt on as Blackwall buckled his pack. He turned around to face the Inquisitor and froze, eyes wide. The Inquisitor was absolutely swamped in the large white shirt, his fingers not visible from the sleeves and the end coming down to his mid thighs. The Inquisitor glanced up curiously from folding back the sleeves as Blackwall halted.

"Blackwall? What's wrong?" He questioned peering forward. The movement caused the shirt to slip off his left shoulder shoulder and Blackwall's face turned red, as he haltingly stumbled back towards the opening of the tent. Before the Inquisitor could even move Blackwall had fled out into the rain. The Inquisitor stared after him for a moment, fully expecting him to return. He was not however expecting to see Iron Bull stroll in. At the Inquisitor's baffled expression, Bull shrugged, lying down on Blackwall's bedroll.

"He ran in asking for a trade. Had no reason to refuse." Bull explained, getting comfortable. The Inquisitor stared at Bull, and then the now closed tent entrance.

"What did I do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer to Blackwall's is:
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> People wearing his clothes


	4. Leliana

Leliana had long since learned how often walls have ears, the most basic of Bard education had given her more than enough experience in avoiding said ears. As a result, she rarely gave reports in a specific room, preferring to be outside altogether. As a result, she and The Inquisitor were strolling around the courtyard going over the report sent by Scout Harding one last time before The Inquisitor and his Inner Circle left for the Storm Coast.

"The bandit numbers seem to be increasing rather than decreasing," The Inquisitor mused. "That's rather surprising. After everything we've done there before…" He trailed off, gazing vacantly as they walked under the walkway leading from the Mage's rooms and Cullen's office.

"Water incoming!" A cheerful voice shouted from above, mere seconds before a bucket's worth of water fell from the overpass. Leliana jerked to the side, shoving The Inquisitor to the ground in the process due to the violence of her attempt to dodge the water. The Inquisitor fell to the ground with a yelp, which turned into something much less manly as the freezing water fell directly onto him, soaking him to the bone and turning the dirt around him into sludge. The Inquisitor glared up at the overpass as Dorian grinned, returning back to the library he spent all of his time in. Leliana slowly approached the Inquisitor, eyes fixed on Dorian as he left. She stuck a hand out to the unfortunate Inquisitor frowning as she noticed she apparent skip to Dorian's gait.

"Was that aimed for you or me, I wonder." She stated, turning her gaze back to the Inquisitor as she began to pull him to his feet. The moment her eyes fell on him she froze and he was stuck in an awkward position of being half in the mud and almost standing.

"Leliana?" He questioned cautiously, already feeling a strange sense of déjà vu after the incident with Blackwall. He had quickly noticed that whenever one of his companions or advisors froze or got that startled look on their face, something unusual was soon to follow. Leliana took in his drenched hair, the soaked dark brown locks looking black. Drips of water slowly beaded at the tips of his hair and fell into his see-through collar. Her eyes fixated on a lock of hair resting on his forehead. She watched as a single bead of water slipped down to the tip of his hair before running down his face, finally being caught at his lips. The Inquisitor nervously flicked out his tongue to his lips, wiping away the water. That slight movement jerked Leliana out of her daze and the Inquisitor had no warning when she jerked her hand from his, spinning on her heel and stalking away. The Inquisitor fell back into the ever-expanding puddle of mud beneath him. The Inquisitor sighed, giving up and letting his head land in the mud with a horrible squishing noise.

"I don't get it! What am I doing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer to Leliana's is wet hair. Just thought something so innocent would be amusing as her particular turn on.


	5. Cassandra

The sound of steel against steel was a common one in the Skyhold courtyard, especially during the day. Soldiers constantly trained, and the Inner Circle were not lax in their own training either. The life of their Inquisitor often depended on their own fighting skills. However, due to their position it was often difficult, if not impossible to spar with anyone other than members of the Inner Circle. Consequently, the only person the Inquisitor had found willing to train with him today was Cassandra. She was a good opponent in all honesty, strong and ever unwilling to hold back. The latter was the problem in this particular incident. Cassandra was never one to miss an opportunity, fair or not.

She and the Inquisitor had been sparring for a good few minutes, the back-and-forth an even clash of sword and daggers. An overhead swing by Cassandra was blocked by the crossing of the Inquisitor's daggers, and a side swipe by the Inquisitor easily redirected by a mere tilt of Cassandra's shield. They were not using their usual weapons, due to the potentially life threatening circumstances which could occur with a slow dodge or a failed swing. As a result, both were fighting with extremely dulled versions of their usual weapons. The Inquisitor had the small grin that often appeared during a tough sparring session as he tested Cassandra's defences with small swipes and flurries of jabs. Cassandra had her eyes sharply fixated on the Inquisitors movements, waiting for the perfect opening for her own attack. Mere seconds after she had blocked another jab by the Inquisitor, their attention was drawn by a rather common occurrence. Iron Bull and Krem were strolling past the duelling pair insulting each other as they so often did. Iron Bull glanced over to the Inquisitor and the Seeker and called out a greeting before continuing on his way.

"Boss! Seeker!" That was all. Two words. Two words were all it took to redirect the Inquisitor's attention away from Cassandra for not even a second. In that second Cassandra's sword had flickered out like a snake, hitting the Inquisitor's left knuckles with a harsh crack. The Inquisitor's attention was quickly returned at that, his blade falling out of his numb hand as he stumbled away from Cassandra.

"Shit!" He cried out as his hand spasmed with pain, fingers jerking unconsciously. He wasn't even able to grip his bleeding knuckles before he was on his back in the dirt. Cassandra was pinning him down with her legs while her hands were pressed too firmly over his mouth. His eyes widened in shock and he mumbled incoherently against her gloves. Her face was slightly flushed, though that could be attributed with the fight, however the uncomfortable look on her face cancelled out that thought.

"Don't…" She started haltingly. "Don't swear. You're the Inquisitor. Don't." She ordered him shakily, eyes fixated on the dirt above his head. He nodded as much as he could with her hands pushing his head into the ground.

"Good," she said slowly removing her hands from his face and pushing herself to her feet. Without another look at the Inquisitor she strode over to her fallen shield and sword, swiping them into her hands as she walked and rounding the corner towards the armoury. The Inquisitor stared after her for a moment before turning his attention back to his aching knuckles. The skin was already turning black and he had a long split spanning the all four finger knuckles.

"What else should I say when you split my hand open?" He grouched, dropping his head to the dirt in a manner very reminiscent to the incident with Leliana.

"Ouch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and the answer to Cassandra's is: Swearing.


	6. Cole

It was a very rare occasion that Cole took his hat off. The Spirit clung to that hat like it was part of his body, removing it only when absolutely necessary or on a very, very rare occasion. In this instance, he was cleaning it. He was crouched over a water trough in an obscure, empty corner of the courtyard. There were only so many battles one could be in before the amount of blood on any items of clothing was a bit much to bear. The Inquisitor wandered past and automatically, reached out a ruffled Cole's hair. That was all. A slight mussing of Cole's hair. It could barely even be counted as actual pressure. The Inquisitor hadn't even noticed Cole, let alone realised he'd touched him until he was suddenly slammed up against a nearby wall, Cole's red and furious face right before his eyes.

"Don't!" Cole ordered, clenching his fists tightly in the Inquisitor's collar. The Inquisitor stared at him in confusion, eyes wide and jaw locked in surprise.

"Don't." Cole said again, this time less aggressive. He stared at the Inquisitor for a few moments longer before slowly letting go of his collar, stepping away and sweeping his hat from where it had fallen. He walked over to another trough, this one further away before returning to scrubbing his hat in careful, methodical movements. The Inquisitor stared at him in utter shock for a moment.

"Don't do what? I didn't even notice you were there!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am absolutely, without a doubt sure that you have all noticed that this is a rather short one, I shall give you all an explanation I hope you will find sufficient. Basically, this one didn't need many words. There wasn't much to explain, (You've all probably noticed that 80% of my other chapters are explanation), therefore it's pretty darn short. Which requires a lot of space wasting so as not to spoil the surprise that most if not ALL of you should have gotten.
> 
> Cole's turn on is:
> 
> ...
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> ...
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> ...
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> ...
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> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> That should be enough :)
> 
> Anyway, the answer is: Hair Touching! This one was short so you probably didn't enjoy it as much as the others, but the next one should be better :)
> 
> 'Til then.


	7. Scout Harding

Restoration efforts at Skyhold were going comparatively quickly when the sheer amount of work that needed to be done was fully appreciated. Every person in Skyhold participated in the restoration in some manner. The physically strong were movers, the physically weak organised the others or created useful tools and the healers healed the near constant stream of injuries. The Inquisitor himself even took part in the renovation efforts, he, Iron Bull and Blackwall a team of movers. The courtyard by the Tavern was their current mission, giant slabs of ramparts needed to be moved to the recycling area where they would be broken down and be reused. Iron Bull was hefting a huge sledgehammer, breaking off small chunks of stone from the larger blocks the Inquisitor would carry away. When he reached a certain point, he would transfer his stone to Blackwall, then return to Iron Bull for another. It was a long and exhausting process that repeated over and over.

It was on the eighty-seventh trip back to Iron Bull that the Inquisitor noticed his audience. Scout Harding was perched on the stone pile by the Tavern, legs crossed and elbows on her knees, hands folded to rest her head on. Her gaze seemed to be uncannily fixated on the Inquisitor simply watching as he went from Iron Bull to Blackwall and back again. After a few more trips during which she did nothing but watch the Inquisitor. A surprisingly uncomfortable feeling began to rise over him as her gaze never once diverted. The longer this went on, the more awkward and jerky his movements became. Iron Bull was watching in silent amusement as this incident occurred, fully aware that the Inquisitor could be surprisingly naïve in matters of the more sexual nature in certain situations. The moment Iron Bull let out a small chuckle, the Inquisitor's face reddened slightly, and on the return trip he walked over to the side to stand in front of Scout Harding. He folded in arms and stared at her, waiting. She continued staring at him with a strange glazed look to her eyes for a moment before seeming to snap out of it and finally look him in the eyes.

"What's wrong Your Worship?" She asked innocently, tilting her head to the said. The Inquisitor twitched slightly.

"You're…" He hesitated, arms moving around his body in motions betraying his awkwardness. "You were… It looked like you were staring." He finally managed, unfalteringly ignoring the unconcealed snorts coming from Iron Bull's direction. Scout Harding made a soft noise of acknowledgement, nodding her head in understand.

"I see… Yes I was staring." She stated, smiling. "Now get back to work, Your Worship" she ordered, reaching forward to place her hands on his shoulders, turn him towards Iron Bull and give him a forceful shove. He stumbled forward slightly, turning back to her in confusion before heading over to Iron Bull.

"I'm just enjoying the view! Don't mind me!" She called over as he picked a large stone from the ground with a grunt. The Inquisitor glanced up at Iron Bull.

"I don't understand what she means." He stated, somewhat sullenly. Iron Bull laughed outright.

"Damn, you're oblivious sometimes. I don't know how you're still alive with self-preservation skills as bad as yours." He chortled, smirking. The Inquisitor stared at him for a moment, before looking back to Scout Harding. He shook his head and began heading towards the patiently waiting Blackwall.

"You don't make sense."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the answer to this one is: Displays of Physical Strength


	8. Dorian

It had been a long day. The group had been ambushed. Twice. Sera had fallen of a cliff. Again. Vivienne had cursed nearly every member of the Inner Circle for some slight on her honour. And it was raining. Actually, raining wasn’t the word for it. Storming. Actually, it was more like hail. Lightning hail. Either way, it had been a rather difficult journey and it was never too soon to set up camp on a day such as that one. As luck would have it, the Inquisitor was partnered with Dorian for tents that night, and once the basic night farewells had been completed, every member of the Inner Circle had gone into their tent to wait until morning. Dorian was lying on his side, making small shapes and figures in smoke coming out of his staff while the Inquisitor set up his own bed roll. The Inquisitor did what many people did once they finally got out of a harsh storm, he got changed. It was here that he made a rather grave mistake. The moment he slipped his shirt over his head, he was doomed.

“So… Do you work out much?” Was Dorian’s first comment. The Inquisitor shrugged, searching through his bag.

“Not really. Just the travelling and fighting I suppose.” He responded. Dorian made a faint noise of agreement.

“I see. You know, you should be shirtless more often.” He stated. The Inquisitor stared at him for a moment.

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun.” Dorian stated, grinning.

“How is it fun?” The Inquisitor found his other shirt and stood up.

“It’s fun for me. Because I get to look at you.”

The Inquisitor sighed and acted as if to put his shirt on.

“Wait!” Dorian called, sitting up. The Inquisitor froze automatically.

“What is it?” He asked cautiously. Dorian waved his staff and suddenly the Inquisitor was breathing in smoke. He turned to the side coughing violently and waving as much smoke away as he could.

“Dorian!” The Inquisitor growled. The mage shrugged, lying back on his side.

“What?” Dorian asked.

“Did you just…” The Inquisitor trailed off.

“I did.”

“Why?” The Inquisitor asked, voice strained.

“It was a brilliant idea, so I went through with it.”

“You thought incinerating my only dry shirt would be a good idea?”

“Ah.” Dorian started. “I’m sorry.”

“So you should be.”

“I forgot about the other shirt.” There was another flash of flame and burst of smoke.

“Dorian!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorians is shirtlessnessnessness :)


	9. Sera

It had been a strange day for the Inquisitor. His days were often strange, but not often like this one. For one, since the beginning of the day Sera had been relentlessly following him about the whole of Skyhold. He hadn’t even realised until Leliana had come up to have a quiet word about the legitimate potential risks this could cause to the Inquisitor’s health. He hadn’t been blind to how his companions and advisors had been acting in recent times, and it seems that they were not blind to their own actions either. From what the Inquisitor had gathered, Sera had been acting strange and downright creepy since earlier that morning when he had bent down to greet some of the smaller children that had recently begun arriving at Skyhold. By itself, this event wasn’t so strange; Sera often took to following various members of the Inner Circle around Skyhold for some reason or another. Possibly to discover some form of blackmail.

The primary reason the Inquisitor’s infinitely small self-preservation instincts kicked was the way everyone else was also acting. The moment the Inquisitor would come into view, various people around Skyhold would go completely pale, eyes widening in what seemed like terror before dropping whatever they were holding. Even those who weren’t holding anything at the time would pick something up as fast as they could, before dropping on the ground in front of them immediately. The first few times this occurred, the Inquisitor was naturally worried and quickly picked up whatever item they had dropped before checking to see if they were all right. The moment he began to leave, they all seemed to completely relax. This process had been repeating itself for seven hours before the Inquisitor finally gave up and locked himself in his room for the inevitable paperwork run as it had been aptly named by his friends. Almost immediately he ran into a problem, requiring the dreaded research in the extensive library within Skyhold. The Inquisitor jogged up the stairs, intent on finishing his research, and subsequently the paperwork in as little time possible. He raised his hand to push the large door to the library open, but froze when he heard the unmistakable sound of Dorian and Sera scheming. Frowning he lowered his hand and stood in place for a moment, contemplating simply leaving the research until later. Finally, curiosity won out and he found himself pressed up against the door, eyes closed and listening intently.

“-tely the best use for all the blackmail I’ve been gathering.” Sera said in an accomplished voice. Dorians laugh came easily through the door.

“You’re telling me that the blackmail you’ve been gathering for weeks, for your own protection I might add, has all been wasted just so you could watch the Inquisitor bend over all day?” Dorian’s voice was filled with amusement.

“Not all of it.” Sera responded, a smile in her voice. The Inquisitor stared at the door, mouth literally dropped open, completely stunned. Slowly he stepped back from the door, thought processes completely wrecked. He walked slowly down the stairs, turning vacantly into the great hall towards his rooms. He was intercepted by a slightly worried looking group of advisors. Cullen, Leliana and Josephine had been searching for the Inquisitor since he became ten minutes late for the war council. When he couldn’t be found in his usual places, they had begun to get worried and the empty expression the lay on his face did little to dash their concerns.

“Inquisitor?” Josephine asked, reaching out the touch his arm gently. “Are you alright?” The Inquisitor stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and walking towards the war council.

“It’s like a disease. It just keeps spreading.” He grumbled to himself thought processes beginning to function once more. He completely missed the anxious looks his advisors shared.

“Cullen, you go set up a quarantine base, Leliana find out who has been affected. We need to stop this now!” Josephine ordered, running off after the Inquisitor to try and prevent him from becoming infected.

“Inquisitor wait! It’s not safe!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sera's is bums. And bending over haha.


	10. Vivienne

It was one of those days again. After the whole of Skyhold had been ‘quarantined’, the Inquisitor had been rather studious in his attempts the pretend that whatever was going on, wasn’t going on. Until Vivienne. It had started off normally as days at Skyhold go. It was one of the days where an inspection occurred in Skyhold, and so the Inquisitor had been wandering all over Skyhold, talking to anyone and everyone about anything and everything. It was remarkably boring for the Inquisitor, but it was necessary to make sure that everyone was doing their duty. It was also a good time for the Inquisitor to be able to mingle with his followers.

It wasn’t until his shirt fell off for the third time that the Inquisitor figured out it was happening again. All throughout the day, things seemed to go horribly wrong for him. His clothes just wouldn’t stay on, and he apparently couldn’t stay on his feet, falling over almost constantly in often embarrassing places, climbing back to his feet to the sound of laughter with a red face every time. At mid-day, he collapsed at the head of the table in the main hall for the lunch he often shared with his closest friends. Cullen glanced at him with a grin from his left and Cassandra just openly scoffed from his right. The Inquisitor sighed.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard then,” he said miserably, letting his head fall onto the table with a loud, painful thud. Another snort escaped Cassandra. He knocked his head against the table again.

“You know its Vivienne, yes?” Leliana asked from her place next to Cassandra. The Inquisitor lifted his head and frowned at her.

“What?” He asked, eyes narrowing at the sorceress that sat at the other end of the table.

“She’s been following you all day,” Varric chimed in, leaning over Cullen to join to conversation. “Also, the things that have been happening can’t have happened without some form of magic.” He pointed out. He held up a hand when the Inquisitor tried to talk.

“It’s not Dorian, because he’s been with me most of the day going over runic additions to Bianca.” The Inquisitor deflated at his words. Cullen smacked him on the back, nearly sending the Inquisitor face first into the table again.

“She’ll get bored eventually,” he chimed, reaching for the food that began to arrive. Cassandra and Leliana laughed.

“No she won’t,” they chimed simultaneously. The Inquisitor groaned, slipping down in his seat, earning an alarmed look from a red-faced Cullen. Another thud.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
The Inquisitor had spent the rest of the inspection looking over his shoulder, making him all the more prone the Vivienne’s pranks. He’d fallen into a water-trough after tripping over an invisible leg, only to get promptly smacked and threatened with death by Leliana when he tried to walk into her office, dripping wet and miserable. By the time the inspection was finished the Inquisitor had fallen over more times than he could count, and there was an ongoing bet throughout Skyhold regarding which item of clothing he would ‘drop’ next. The Inquisitor trudged through the main hall, clothes filthy and hair drenched. He froze in place as his eyes fixed on an elegant figure standing by the door that led to his chambers.

“You.” He said, eyes narrowing.

“Hello,” she said cheerfully, smiling at him.

“You!” He repeated, hands on his hips as he glared at her. She laughed, throwing her head back.

“I think we have established this fact, have we not?” She asked, walking up to him.

“Why?” The Inquisitor almost whined his glare softening slightly at her smile, one of the few true ones she rarely shows.

“Because,” she leaned in uncomfortably close. She reached a hand up to his face, gently cupping his cheek. His eyes went wide and he tried to stumble back as she slowly drew her face close to his. His face erupted with colour when she stopped with their lips barely a centimetre away from each other. He could feel her breath brushing his mouth as she spoke and it took him a couple of seconds to register her words.

“You’re so cute when you blush, my dear.” She drew back and strode across the hall to the library. The Inquisitor was frozen in place, and for once, he was speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne's you've probably guessed, but it's blushing :) Haha, I'm so mean to him.


End file.
